Memories of Madrid
I lived in Madrid during the late noughties.
It was a poignant time - the economic crisis was hitting Spain hard.
Household debt was running at twice the nation’s GDP, and the country was reeling from the consequences of a reckless housing boom – over previous years, more houses had been built in Spain than the US, and a quarter of male workers were employed in the construction industry.
But, despite the dire repercussions of all this, life in Madrid rolled on.
In fact, the longer I lived there the more I began to see it as a giant theatre.
Whether I was meditating on the flamboyant chatter at my local tapas bar, gazing up at the Art Deco buildings on Gran Vía, or stopping to listen to an impassioned speech at a political rally in Puerta del Sol, the whole city felt so theatrical.
And the extreme weather added to the sense of drama.
Situated over 600 metres above sea level - and next to the arid plains stretching out towards Toldeo - Madrid is baked over the summer and frozen over the winter.
The sense of theatricality can also be linked back to Madrid’s history.
You only need to read about the crowds who gathered to watch C17 heretics being burnt at the stake in Plaza Mayor – or the fierce street battles fought around Plaza de España during the Civil War – to get a sense of how the city’s dramatic history has been internalised by its inhabitants.
During the post-war years, Franco’s government managed to partially control people’s freedoms and expressivity, but, as soon as that ended, an explosion of energy and creativity was released.
Of course, with its theatres, bookshops, concert halls, and internationally-acclaimed art museums – like the Prado, the Reina Sofía, and the Thyssen-Bornemisza – Madrid is now an art lover’s paradise.
When I lived there, I soaked up the inspiration on offer in those spaces.
But, even more than that, I loved the street culture – the rollerbladers gliding through the parks; the buskers performing outside theatres; the mime artists playing chess at night beneath hazy streetlights; the street-hawkers dissolving into the shadows at the sight of approaching police officers.
You need to keep an eye out for pickpockets (a less welcome type of theatre!) but Madrid is a uniquely inspiring space.
And, if you’re ever planning a visit, bear in mind that ideally it deserves at least a one week stay to do it justice.
One of my novels, I Saw Red, is set in Madrid. It’s a modern-day retelling of the story of Ariadne, Theseus, and the Minotaur.
James Lee © 2024
Madrid is one of my favorite places. Parque Retiro is special indeed. Thanks for sharing!